


The Cleaning Staff

by doesnotloveyou



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man 3 - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers Tower, Cute, Funny, Gen, One Shot, Robotics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 11:44:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/798396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doesnotloveyou/pseuds/doesnotloveyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony went back to the ruins of his Malibu estate for some unfinished business. Now a new kind of rescue mission is underway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cleaning Staff

            The machine shop of the _Avengers_ Tower (yes, it might as well be) is still reasonably green, not much having occurred there since Mark VII nearly two years ago. But things are vastly different on the agenda now. No suits, suits are out…for the time being. Until then, a new project is in order: rebuilding the old cleaning staff.

            “Okay, that’s gross,” Tony says under his breath as he frantically shakes a piece of black slime off his hand. “You are a tragic _mess_. What’ve you got to say for yourself this time?”

            The battered robot doesn’t reply of course. Tony steps back and crosses his arms, pondering. “JARVIS start up the ‘washer’.”

            “Er, for what exactly? Sir?”

            “Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

            “The amount of organic material involved will clog up the-”

            “Just do it, JARVIS.” Tony kicks the brake off the stand wheels. Dum-E is slowly shuttled across the room toward the lubricating machine Tony modified to clean his suits. Passing by the diagnostics screens, the rows of oiled tools set out for the procedure, and the table of disassembled pieces waiting to be returned to their main component, it feels like the operating room of the Bionic Man. Dum-E is lifted off its stand by robotic arms and placed snuggly in the machine. The unit seals shut and the cleaning process begins.

            Tony squints at the floating diagnostic displays again. Seawater plays hell with machinery, not to mention the stress of being buried under a mountain of rubble; and one giant velveteen bunny. Everything will have to be replaced. Program might just be salvageable. Then again, this might have to be Dum-E Mark II. New robot, new program, fresh memory bank. Screw it, Tony Stark is in charge of this operation, ladies and gentleman, there’s nothing to worry about.

            “Crap!” He nearly wipes out on a slick piece of seaweed. Composure regained. “Zeppelin, JARVIS.”

            The steady beat of “Kashmir” reverberates throughout the room as Tony gets to work. The low hum of the elevator can be heard traveling up. Bruce is here for a few days, but only a few. That guy’s always moving and it’s never to anywhere _fun_. Whenever he’s off rescuing orphans in where-the-heck-istan Tony wonders how he’s getting along, but no more than necessary. Guy can take care of himself.  

            An hour or so in and the new design is already in progress. The lathe whirs gently as shining, perfect machine parts are born.

             “Lemme know when he’s done with his shower and we’ll start on U,” Tony says to the AI as he wipes the lubricant and sea salt off his hands, “and make sure it’s…thorough.”

            “I’ll _try_ , sir.”

            “'There’s no ‘try,' JARVIS.”

            “Yes, sir,” is the long-suffering reply.

           

            “Yeah, keep telling yourself that!” Tony shouts up the stairs. Chuckling, he steps into the shop, nursing a scotch. “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got.”

            The cleaning unit hisses as it opens and a shiny clean droid is lowered gently, if not a little wobbly, onto the stand. Tony gets in immediately, inspecting every groove, crevice and wire. Donning a thin pair of thermal gloves, he scratches a bit of sand away here and there. Now that he can actually see the surface better without all the gunk, Tony shakes his head and runs his fingers over deep dents and rusty blotches. Parts are loose, wires are scraggly, and Dum-E tilts to one side like an early morning drunk.

             “See? That wasn’t so bad,” states Tony out loud.

            “Mm, I have yet to run diagnostics on the _lubricator_ , so I wouldn’t know.”

            “Drama queen,” comments Tony as he replaces Dum-E with the other, more critically damaged droid. “Be careful with these pieces, Jarv.”

            “Why would I be otherwise?” asks the disgruntled AI of no one in particular.

             The hours pass silently as Dum-E undergoes a complete rebuild under Tony’s sharp eye. Numbers dance across the screen beside him as memory banks are searched for damage, and lines of code are dusted off and realigned one by one.

            U comes out not too much worse for the wear. Wires and circuit boards are gutted, stripped and replaced. Metal parts are reconnected by smooth threads of copper, bolts are tightened, tests are run and joints respond with healthy clicks and whirs. Tony types in a command and steps back to observe the reassembled droids. Carefully, as if trying out a prosthetic for the first time, Dum-E’s claw twitches then slowly opens. U does the same, snapping them shut twice. As Tony directs them both bots move about tentatively like toddlers. After a bit of preliminary navigating, he gently eases them forward and off their pads. They lurch awkwardly about the small space, whirring uncomfortably. Satisfied, Tony sends in a few final commands before walking to each bot and disconnecting them from their cords. “JARVIS.”

            The computers hum under the control of JARVIS’ unseen hand and suddenly the two bots begin to whir. Gradually, they start to move for themselves letting their sensors roam methodically over the room, giving them bearings. Dum-E blinks and turns toward the figure of Tony. U knocks a lamp off a desk with a metallic clank and whirs unhappily.

            A barely discernible smile comes to Tony’s eyes. “Welcome home, boys. Now go 'head and make a mess of my shop, you’ve earned it. What’s the phrase? Bulls in a china store?”

            The two droids hum and whir as they notice each other, and Dum-E backs over the lamp and into the table, knocking off more things.

            “Guys, I wasn’t serious! Okay, c’mon, pick it up or someone's getting another dunce cap. _No,_ NO. Alright, that was on you, butters. Okay, you know what, come forward, come here so you don’t back over- STOP!…nobody tell Pepper.”

           

           

 


End file.
